Sins Of Our Fathers Preview
by JohnPCooper
Summary: Set before the events of the original series, Learn the origins of the Warfighters, its founders, and the atrocities they witnessed to make the future possible. "Everything I believed in was a lie, and the country I swore an oath to turned their back on me. And I know now I'm not the only one. One day we will be free," Steven Algof. A/N: this will be the last addition to ATH story


Part 1: Welcome to the Jungle

Steven

 _ **2001**_

It was just another day at the Idaho base and everyone was off doing their own activities. Ivan was in the bunker doing powerlifting exercises as usual, Alexander was out hunting for Elk out in the woods, Annabelle was out at the range beyond the bunker still getting to know Sierra and the others were doing their own thing. I never really cared what those flyboys did as it was usually beyond me. As for me, I was just relaxing inside the house. I was slowly pacing by the numerous pictures hanging from the walls on the wood floor as the mid-afternoon sun cast an orange veil over the whole world. It had been about a month since our last mission but I had to admit, the peaceful life never suited me. I was at peace with the chaos, after all, it had been there my whole life. But the irony was in how the opposite was true as well. When my body is at peace, my mind can't help but to wonder. And I go back to when it all started. So long ago…

"Hey pops, whatcha doin'?" I jumped as John snuck up behind me. The cocky white siberian tiger almost giving me a heart attack as he snapped me out of my daze. I half hated and half loved the kid. John had come from a background just like me and I after some time, I let him call me dad… for some reason. It was strange given that his parents were dead. I never wanted to ask him why but I always assumed it was because he needed someone to fill that void in his life. But it could also be because I was the first on the team to NOT treat him like shit. Either is plausible I suppose.

"Nothing," I sighed, slightly irritated. I was still grasping firmly onto the trail of events that each picture portrayed. I turned around to face him and crossed my arms, "what's up?"

"Well…," He shifted his weight a little. This must be good, "I'm thinking of taking Sierra out tonight."

"Do you have a plan?"

"Umm, not really. I mean," he gestured out the sliding glass door around the corner, "we live in the middle of the woods in a place that officially doesn't exist. We don't exactly have a lot of options."

"And that's why I don't date," I chuckled a little as I nudged past him and moved my way into the kitchen to make myself a drink. That was only half true, I had once had a thing for Annabelle and had the urge to act on it for some time. But I also didn't want to die. But then again, considering that she's French kind of made it a worthy option in my mind. Maybe someday...

"Oh come on dad, help me out here."

I thought about it for a minute while I made myself a margarita. When I finished and took a sip, I explained my plan, "Ok, so this isn't exactly up to par with a Hooters date but we can open up the balcony upstairs with a couple of chairs, some candlelight under the moon, and I'll hook you up with some dinner."

I could see the gears turning in his head as he mentally revised it.

"That… sounds really good," nodded subtly and rested his chin on his fist as he stared at the wall, "But, Hooters?"

I chuckled as I raised my glass for another sip, "A story you'll never know," 'because that's why I'm determined not to even try anything with Annabelle'.

"Huh, right," I downed my glass and when my head was back he spoke again, "What about those?"

I slowly put my glass down to see him pointing at the pictures I was looking at earlier on the wall. Just like that my mind started to wander again. I still hadn't told him yet.

"You never told me about any of them," I put my glass down on the counter and looked across the room at one in particular. It was a shot of me with my feet hanging out of a helicopter facing the ocean while bound for a jungle coast. I thought for a minute, immersing myself in the memory. Getting lost in what should've been my grave.

"You want to know what happened?" I pulled a few tall bottles of whiskey out of the overhead cupboard and popped the top off of one of them, "Alright, I think it's time you knew."

There wasn't much to me at first. I was just a boy growing up on the streets of a small town in Australia. I don't really remember my parents. I didn't really have friends. For as long as I could remember it was just me, wandering the Outback in search of something worth sticking around for. I never really found that something so when I turned 17, I lied about my age and joined the Australian Army. There, through all the training and hardships, I finally found what I was looking for. A family. I served as an infantryman for two years before a few of my friends and I were accepted into the SAS Regiment. Those who I had first called friends I now called brothers and these brothers were all the family i needed. I had never really known what it felt like until now, to have a family. For the first time, I was home. And ironically, we were all black labradors. It was though it was meant to be. But then our first mission came and everything changed. Just like that, I entered what could only be described as a living hell for something that would've never made a difference. All because someone told us to.

 _ **1975**_

We had trained for something like this for quite some time now. I was only 20 at the time, the youngest of my peers. But in the face of danger, age didn't mean a damn thing. We had lifted off from the USS Enterprise aircraft Carrier about 50 miles off the coast of Vietnam in a UH-1H Huey transport helicopter in a fleet of 5 others bound for the coast. It was all like any other training mission for most of the 30 minute flight. We were talking trash and cracking jokes just like if we were at a local pub and we were drinking beers. But as soon as we heard that we were one minute out, the jokes stopped and we did final equipment checks. No later did our pilot receive a call just as we passed over dry land.

"We've got Marines outgunned near our landing zone!" He shouted over the chopping of the helicopters rotors through the air, "They're being overrun and we're being called on for close air support!"

"Roger that!" Our Captain responded from behind me. I felt him slep me hard on the back as he rallied us, "Alright gents. Let's show these Yankees how Aussies do it!"

In response I grabbed the side-mounted M60 machine gun and yanked back the bolt twice to make sure that it was loaded.

"I heard this track on the carrier!," I heard him lead a tape into a radio behind me, "Damn hell of a beat!"

A familiar low trell of electric guitar started to play from behind me at full volume, competing with the helicopter rotors. Then I recognized it instantly as Fortunate Son by Creedance Clearwater. The lyrics and simple yet powerful tune cementing itself into my brain. As the chorus started, I spotted the waves of ground troops off over the treeline.

"Alright mates! Give 'em hell!" and with that the Hueys moved into an attack arrow formation and we started firing into the waves of NVA soldiers. I let loose with my M60 in long controlled bursts into the open field below as we whizzed past at 80 miles an hour. I heard the gunfire compete with the song, the chopper rotors, the bullet casings hitting the side of the helicopter and the screams of the soldiers and Marines below all at once. I had never been in a real life mission before. It was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Or maybe it was that it was terrifying to the point of being exhilarating. In either case, it was more of an adrenaline rush than any training mission we had ever done in the middle of the Outback as we made pass after pass over the field of advancing NVA soldiers until the steady flow of moving targets stopped. Only then did I realize that those soldiers didn't really look like soldiers. They looked alot more like typical rice farmers. I safetyed my M60 and leaned across the chopper to point it out to the Captain. I could tell in the expression on his face that he was just as shocked as I. Did we just kill civilians? What the hell is going on here?

We finished our last attack run and made our way to the landing zone in the US Marine Corps base that was set up only a few hundred meters from the field. As our fleet swooped around and slowed to a hover in a dirt clearing, a Marine walked up to my chopper. He had his rifle in one hand and with the other arm he shielded his eyes from all the dust and debris flying every which way from the winds the landing aircraft generated. The Captain climbed past me and jumped down from the skid rail before we landed with all of his gear and I did the same. As we walked up to meet the Marine, I got a clear look at him. His trousers had some blood spots and holes in them and he had torn his sleeves off. He was bleeding from multiple places all over his body and had a freshly treated flesh wound on his bicep. By all accounts, it looked like he had been through hell.

"Captain Mack Riser?" the marine shouted over the helicopter blades slowing down.

The Captain stepped forward and held out a hand to shake, "Yeah, and this bloke here is Algof!" He pointed back at me and I stopped walking a few feet away from their exchange, "Who might you be?"

"Just call me the BC. I'm the last Commanding officer of this Battalion," he stopped yelling so loudly as the ambient noise of the helicopters were starting to calm down, "Or whatever's left of it."

"The last Commanding Officer?" I chimed in, "where are all the others?"

"Dead," he replied, staring me dead in the eyes, "Killed in action or captured and killed worse."

The BC led us back to their main command tent and gave our 10 man unit a brief overview of the situation. Due to political and social tension in their homeland and pressure against the president's administration, the US military was pulling out of the war. Vital assets had been withdrawn for months now and the existing ground forces were suffering heavy casualties as a result. Everyone had given up hope at this point and no-one really wanted to be here anymore. This was the last US controlled base in the region that hadn't been overrun by the NVA.

"Why the hell your government wants in on this shithole is beyond me," the BC said at some point near the end of the briefing, "But if you want to stay alive, you're going to need a guide to get you broken in," he beckoned someone from the corner of the tent that I hadn't noticed yet. He stood up and walked over to his side, "This is Corporal Gabriel, our last chaplin. I'm assigning him to your team to act as a guide for the next week," he gestured Gabriel to step forward, "Now, I've got things to do right now so I'll let him take charge. Good luck gentlemen."

And with that, he hurried out of the tent, ducking under the flap that kept the bugs out. With the BC gone Gabriel clapped his hands together.

"Now I'm not sure why the fuck he had us gather in this stinking tent, but lets go for a walk," he didn't have to say another word. I was already sweating bullets in my battle dress uniform blouse and took it off halfway through the presentation, now just wearing my tshirt underneath my body armor. We all stood up and followed him out, picking up our guns on the way out. Gabriel carried a M1911 at all times on his hip, as did the rest of us. But while he had his M16, my unit had our F88 Austeyr's, or more simply, the Aug. The SAS trained us in both but for the sake of maneuverability, we opted for the Aug as our main battle rifle. He walked us through the camp and through the jungle that borders the camp and the field, all the while giving us specs for the equipment that they would be leaving behind. I could hear and feel artillery shells and bombs hitting the earth far off in the unseen distance. Soon enough we came in view of the field of bodies that we had helped gun down. I reached forward and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Aye Gabriel," I whispered, he spun around and looked over his shoulder as he continued to walk sideways, still being wary of his foot placement in the soggy ground. I pointed out to the field where Marines were surveying the bodies, making sure they were all dead, "Were those civilians?"

Gabriel sighed and turned back around to step over a log, "I wish it were that simple," he explained, "At first it felt like we were fighting an army. But as time rolled on it felt like we were fighting the jungle itself, and we were losing. The local government collapsed and the locals started attacking us. It started simple, a few sabotages here and there. But it didn't take long for them to find real weapons and cause one problem after another. As of the last several months, we haven't come across a single village or town that doesn't have some amount of militant resistance. They started calling themselves Viet-Cong."

"How do you tell the Viet-Cong apart from the normal civilians?" asked Mack.

"You don't," replied Gabriel without even turning around, "That's why they worked so well at attacking us. There was a small four team unit we called the Killer Patrol a while back when the Viet-Cong were still on the rise. They killed and burned every village they came across that they suspected in being anti-US. Eventually they were caught and charged for their war crimes because some snitch in their home base reported it to high command. But they never once lost a man. The four of them came to Vietnam and the four of them left Vietnam. And what's more is their home base was never attacked."

"How much collateral damage there was?" someone from the rear of the pack called out.

"Who cares," Gabriel bluntly answered, "In this place there are no civilians. Everyone is trying to kill you and if you want to stay alive, your only option is to kill them first. That's how we've rolled and since we've left the rules of engagement behind, our losses have dropped significantly."

"Maybe but it's still not right," the same voice said.

Gabriel stopped the entire patrol line. And whipped around, fury in his eyes, "WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?!" he yelled as he stormed through the mud to the origin of the voice. When he found the teammate that spoke he yanked him out of the line and threw him over his shoulder into the mud at his feet, splashing mud everywhere. Everyone was too shocked to do anything in response. We expected combat in war but not from our tour guide and especially not from a chaplin, "Alright pick yourself up. We're ALL going for a walk."

Gabriel brushed the mud off of his pants, turned off into the field and didn't look back. Another Unit member picked our guy out of the mud and we followed him a few meters behind. He slowed his pace when he came close to the bodies that littered the ground. Most were scattered about randomly but some were in piles, as though they died trying to use other bodies as shields to protect themselves from the onslaught. Finally he spotted and crept up to one who was laying belly down in the grass. Then suddenly he wound up and kicked it as hard as he could in the side. To my surprise he curled up on his side, hunching over in pain. We gathered around him, unknowing of what Gregory was thinking.

"Now can someone tell me what is that?" He pointed to what looked like a farmer on the ground, his straw hat had fallen off when he was kicked and I could see his eyes filled with fear and pain, like they were in their own illiterate language begging for mercy. "Let me guess, just an injured farmer right? Well now watch this."

He pulled out his M1911, racked it and dropped it in front of the farmer. Slowly his expression changed. He looked at the gun, his eyes turning colder and colder. I noticed his breathing change as he scanned us. I realized what he was doing now. He was identifying his potential targets. Then suddenly everything happened at once. The farmer reached for the gun in an explosive movement and just like that, Gabriel shot him in the back of the head with a burst from his M16. His body dropped to the ground face down in the soup of mud mixing with bright red blood.

"That was a Viet-Cong militant," he picked up the gun out of the mud and shook it to get some of the mud off, "and the first lesson is this isn't a war anymore. All this place wants to do is to kill you in every way possible. It's a meat grinder," Gregory holstered his pistol and rested his non-trigger hand on top of his M16s carry handle.

"I thought you were supposed to be a chaplain," I said over the ambient rattling of gunfire in the distant jungle.

He cocked his head in my direction, "Oh I am. But if there's one thing that I've learned in my time here is that this… this shithole, is not the work of God. In fact I would go as far to say that if the devil were to have created something on this earth, it would've been this God forsaken place. It's about as close to Hell as you're ever going to get in this life."

We finished our tour in silence, walking in a patrol pattern in a one mile radius from the camp, just enough to get us familiar with the terrain. Gregory stayed in our unit for the next few weeks as we carried out raids and patrols in the region. We still never received any supplies directly from Australia, and instead just shared supplies with the Marines. It was as though the had just sent us here and forgotten about us. Whenever we called our chain of command for an update or any orders, all they said was to standby and hold our position. I found myself wondering why we were even here in the first place as we burned village after village for supporting the Viet-Cong and NVA. With no natural resources and a people that hated us, I couldn't think of a single reason to stay. But as bad as it was, it only got worse in the following month.

We were sneaking through the jungle a few miles north at dusk. We didn't mean to stay out this long but we were well behind enemy lines. Just in the last 24 hours we had cleaned out half of a nearby NVA and Viet-Cong encampment. It went well but now we were running low on ammo and we knew that we were being followed. I could see them spying on us as we moved and darting away when we pointed them out or made eye contact. It was spooky to say the least and the ever darkening jungle wasn't helping. It all climaxed when we found ourselves at a river running near a small ridge. The noises of the wildlife felt louder than they normally did combined with the rushing water of the river. I was in the lead of the pack with Riser shortly behind when I held up my hand to stop the patrol and dropped to a knee to lessen my profile. My eyes carefully scanned the treeline, taking it all in. I looked back and saw that my unit were doing the same. I can't describe what it was that I felt but it hung heavily in the air. With no evidence that something would happen but I just _felt it_ , like a sixth sense. After several minutes of nothing happening, I signalled to keep moving on but at a more cautious pace, hunched over as we passed through the dense, overgrown foliage. But before we could get too far, I heard a twig crack in half behind us. Or was it the cocking of a rifle?

I whipped around in a quick reflex and pointed my rifle at a tree in which the sound came from. There was nothing special about the tree, it wasn't even that big. But it had captured the attention of our whole unit. We all had our guns drawn in that general direction, so it definitely wasn't just me being paranoid. That sixth sense was driving me crazy now, my heart rate skyrocketing and my eyes darting every which way. After a few seconds we slowly started to advance on the tree. Half of us went around one way and the other half went the other to overwhelm and kill whatever was hiding behind it. I placed one foot into the other in a careful attempt to minimise the wet sound of my boots leaving the sticky mud and to steer clear of foliage as much as possible to keep the sound of the leaves and vines brushing against my clothes and gear to a minimum. Unfortunately this had the side effect of us moving very slowly through a clearing. The misty environment did it's best to hide the ground, only allowing us to see above our knees after all the rain from the night before. I had to admit, I was scared all the time here. This moment was no acception. Even at this moment, the air seemed to freeze as I took my last steps before finishing our flank of the tree.

I jumped out from behind the tree and pointed my gun at what little concealment it offered. All 13 of us did the same and formed a ring around the tree, all with our guns at the ready. The only problem was that there was nothing there. Maybe it was a small animal climbing up the tree and we overreacted. Or maybe it was just a branch falling out of the tree. But then My foot hit something solid in the mud. I bent down and picked it up. It was an empty magazine for an AK-47. Normally this wouldn't bother me but the problem was it was mostly clean, only with mud on the other rain in Vietnam is so powerful that it'll splash mud up from the ground and cover anything with mud that's too close to the ground. So this mag should be covered in mud. The reality hit me there and then. Shit…

"It's an ambush," I said, whipping around as fast as I could to point my gun in the opposite direction, shattering the silence.

My teammates weren't as subtle, instantly whipping around and chopping away at the jungle. The eerie silence of the jungle had transformed into a maelstrom of madness as gunfire erupted in response from the trees across the river and further into the jungle. Combined with the impending pursuit of the counterattack from the encampment, it meant we had no choice but to push forward as fast as possible, leaving behind any semblance of stealth in our movement.

We did our best, keeping them well at bay for a time I could not recall for the life of me. Was it half an hour? Or only 5 minutes? All I knew is as we kept moving we kept losing more and more men. Gabriel was the first to disappear, followed quickly by a second, and another. Next thing I knew I was alone with Riser close by my side and the only ammo left I had in my M1911, and even then, I knew I was running out. Even worse, we soon found the end of the river leading over the edge of a cliff in a magnificent waterfall. Looking over the edge, I weighed our options. I couldn't see the bottom as it was masked in a thick mist that drifted up over the valley that lay beyond. I began to feel hopeless, knowing there was really no way out and that we would likely die here on the edge of a cliff. No-one would ever know our names and no-one would ever know what happened here. We would just be another couple of bodies lost in the jungle. I was just starting to realize as I looked out at the horizon just how beautiful it was. The sunrise was just starting to peak over the mountains of the valley letting a brilliant stream of orange light up the mist of the waterfall. Maybe dying here with this being the last thing I see wouldn't be so bad afterall.

Just then my transe was broken by the screams of Riser behind me. I whipped around to see him getting choked out and dragged off into the jungle by a villager slightly larger than him. I quickly shot him in the head with my pistol, killing him, but that last shot locked the slide back. I was out of ammo. And as though on cue, a few dozen NVA soldiers rushed out from behind the trees and bushes and took a firing stance. This was my last chance to avoid them, finish the job myself and jump off the cliff. At least there would be a small chance of coming out the other side and otherwise a guarrantee that I would have a quick death. But instead I just stood there as they surrounded us, watching helplessly as more and more poured out from the jungle waiting for my inevitable death to come, but it never came. Instead a single soldier walked up to me and slammed the butt of his rifle into my face, knocking me to the ground. I tried pushing off the ground, spitting blood on the ground as I heaved but didn't get far before I felt the hard impact of the rifle on the back of my head, knocking me out. At first I would have thought this would be considered mercy, but had I known the chain of events that would soon be set in motion I could not imagine a fate worse, nor how the world as I knew it would soon be ripped away.

As I slowly woke up I couldn't tell where I was or how long I was out. I could only confirm what Gabriel had suggested before on our first day was undoubtedly true. This was Hell. And the painful truth was, I had only begun the torment of a journey I would never finish.


End file.
